


Half-Painted Pewter

by aithne



Series: New Kirkwall (Modern AU) [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-28
Updated: 2013-05-28
Packaged: 2017-12-13 06:28:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/821106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aithne/pseuds/aithne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, Katje and Jowan were the weird kids that nobody understood, and took comfort in each other.  But there are things that were never meant to last.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Half-Painted Pewter

Katje bounced out of the dance studio, dressed in a big sweatshirt and high tops over her ballet tights. She caught sight of Jowan and grinned. “Hey! You made it! Milkshake. Now.” She carried a pair of ballet shoes in her hands, ribbons trailing.  _Pointe shoes,_  she called them, and Jowan always thought they were funny with the flat fronts of the toes.

Jowan laughed and pushed himself away from the wall where he’d been slouching. “Okay.” He picked up his backpack and turned towards the street. Katje fell in beside him. The wind whipped around them, picking up dead leaves and dust in little vortices.

They headed down the street to Big Bob’s, where Katje ordered a root beer milkshake, and they perched on stools at the counter. The cooks were busy in the open kitchen, flipping burgers, one of them watching Jowan and Katje out of the corner of his eye. “You ready for the history quiz tomorrow?” she asked.

He shook his head. History was easily his worst subject; there was something about the names and dates that kept on slipping out of his head, leaving only noisy emptiness behind. The cashier set Katje’s milkshake in front of her, and two straws.

Katje took a sip and sighed in happiness, then offered the other straw to Jowan. “Would your mom care if I came over? I could help.”

“I think she’d be okay,” he said. In truth, Jowan’s mother liked Katje, and often encouraged Jowan to invite her over.  _I don’t think anyone feeds that girl enough,_  she’d said. He could never convince her that Katje ate more than any of the boys he knew, but that she was at the barre for three hours every day, five hours on the weekends. She was thin to the point of appearing frail, unless you looked at the places where muscles corded under her skin. He sipped the milkshake. “You could come have dinner with us. Noodles, tonight.” He slid the milkshake back over to her.

She sucked on the straw, her cheeks hollowing. “I’d like that. I can call my dad from your place.” She nudged his calf with the toe of her hightop. “And you can show me what you’re painting.”

He grinned. He’d been afraid to show her the tiny miniatures that he painted at first, back when they’d first become friends. She liked them, though. She’d even tried her own hand at it, but she wasn’t very good at the detail work. Jowan could focus for hours on the figures, tiny archers and darkspawn, painting in the smallest of bumps and niches. “I have a proper dragon for the first time,” he said. “She’s quite the project.”

They fell to talking about school, about Katje’s upcoming nameday. She was going to be fifteen in a month; Jowan had just turned fifteen two months ago. He asked her if she was going to go to the AV club’s screening of  _Seven Fir Trees_ , and she shook her head. “I have a recital.”

He cocked his head. “Is your dad coming to watch?”

The shake of her head was slow, and her black eyes flickered closed. “No. He never does.” She finished her milkshake and jumped off the stool, leaving a few coins behind for a tip. “Let’s go.”

#

The studio held advanced recitals at a nearby theater. There was a small but enthusiastic crowd clustered near the front rows—parents, brothers and sisters, grandparents. Jowan sat a little ways off, watching the stage. Some of the other people in the audience glanced at him. “Are you here to see your girlfriend?” a matronly woman asked, bouncing a redheaded toddler on her knee.

He shook his head. “Just a friend. Her dad couldn’t make it.”

The woman nodded and turned her attention back to her daughter. The lights went down, and the recital began.

Jowan didn’t really understand the dances, but he knew there was a logical progression. The younger students went first, then the older ones. Katje was in the very last group. She danced out with her class, almost appearing to float across the stage in her white leotard and tights and dark skirt. Her hair was bound up in a bun, white curls escaping from the top.

He’d seen her dance before, but never at recital. She moved with a muscular grace, more animated than most of the rest of her class. But she didn’t smile like the rest of them. Instead, her face was set in a determined, intense mask. She danced  _fiercely_ , leaping as if the floor were fire and gravity an enemy to be conquered.

And he found himself watching the way she moved, the curve of her neck, her legs through the filmy fabric of her skirt, and felt his face growing hot.

When the music ended, all of the students dipped into graceful bows. He clapped hard when everyone else did.

#

He found her later, sitting on a box by the backstage door. Families were milling around, dancers carrying bouquets of flowers. Katje seemed small among them, and lost.

He should have brought flowers, he thought.

She looked up at him and stood, shouldering her bag. She was back in her sweatshirt and jeans now, her hair still up in its tight bun. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

Jowan smiled at her. “I liked your dance.” Her face turned abruptly dark, and he blinked a little. “Did I say something wrong?”

“Nothing.” She blew out a breath and started walking. “You want to come over to my house? My dad’s out until late.”

He nodded and fell in beside her. A few blocks away, they both dropped down on a bench at a bus stop. The crosstown 12 would be by soon enough. Katje stared at a bush across the street, her eyes flickering as a crow landed in front of it. “Madame wants me to try out for a couple of big companies. The Fereldan National, and the Val Royeaux Opera Ballet. She says even if I don’t get in there, there’s a good chance another company will snap me up.”

Jowan blinked. “That’s…good, right? You’re really good.”

Her voice was soft and bitter. “Father will never let me. I’m not even supposed to be dancing in recitals. Ballet is something I’m supposed to do as a hobby, something to talk about to nice young men of status. It’s not supposed to be a _passion_. Or a career. I’m not even supposed to let it make my feet ugly.”

Jowan had seen her feet, with their callouses and blackened toenails and bruises. “I’m sorry,” he said, because that was what you said when you didn’t know what else to say.

Katje shrugged a little, and then reached up and began pulling pins out of her bun. Her hair fell down around her face in ramshackle tangled curls. Without thinking about it, he reached out and brushed her hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear.

She looked at him, and he suddenly was very aware of how close he was to her. Heat washed over him again. There was a redness rising on her cheeks as she curled up one corner of her mouth and swayed back a bit. “Hey. I was wondering.” She fidgeted with the strap of her bag. “Do you want to go to the dance on Friday? At school?”

He blinked. “Sure? I thought you hated school dances.” He’d never been to one.

Katje blew out a breath. “To be clear. I am asking you out on a date.” She ducked her head a bit, looking at him indirectly.

Jowan’s mouth fell open. “A date. Like. A…date? Like, a not-friends date?”

“Yeah.” There was a shy smile on her lips. She scooted a little closer to him. “Um. If you want.”

“Yes!” The vehemence with which the word came out surprised him. “Yes. Definitely yes.”

She leaned in a little, her dark eyes shining. But before he could decide whether or not she really wanted him to kiss her, the bus pulled up and the doors hissed open, and they had to jump up to catch it.

They did their homework together at Katje’s big, creaky house, and then Jowan’s mom came and got him. All the way home, he couldn’t stop smiling and wondering if maybe she really did want to kiss him.

#

The school gym was decorated with silver paper stars and streamers, the lights dimmed except for a mirrored ball. Jowan didn’t really like the flashing of the lights off of it; he kept flinching away from the motion of the light. Katje held his hand tightly. She was wearing a slip dress over a pair of jeans, her hair down for once instead of up or braided back. Jowan, for his part, was wearing a pair of slacks that was verging on a little too short and a dark green shirt that his sister Lily had brought him.

They were getting looks, but Jowan was used to that. They sat to one side of the gym, watching the people dancing. Katje leaned against him. “We can stay here,” she said, raising her voice a little so he could hear her above the music. “We don’t have to dance.”

He nodded and slipped his hand into hers. “Maybe in a bit.”

They both watched the other kids as they danced in groups and then by twos and fours. Jowan didn’t recognize any of the music, but that didn’t seem to matter. As far as the dancing went, it was nothing like the ballet recital. Just jumping up and down and flailing, mostly.

Then another song came on, this one slower. Katje looked over at Jowan and inclined her head towards the dance floor. Jowan chewed on the inside of his cheek. “I don’t know how…”

Katje got up, tugged on his hand until he came to his feet. “It’s okay. I’ll show you.”

She pulled him onto the dance floor, dodging between the traveling reflections from the mirror ball. All around them, kids were coupling up, a lot of them wandering off the dance floor in search of sodas.

She took one of his hands and put it on her waist. He could feel the warmth of her body through the silky fabric of her dress, and he realized he was shaking a little. “Just sway a little,” she said, and after they spent a few seconds sorting out their feet he found it easy enough.

Katje set her head against his shoulder as they swayed, as he tried to grapple with the reality that he was dancing with a girl. With  _this_  girl.

The song ended, and she stepped away from him, then reached for his hand. “Want to go for a walk?”

He nodded, mutely.

They ducked past the chaperones in the doorway, using the cover of a brief commotion as a pair of boys tried to get into it with one another. Away from the gym, the school was dark and mostly silent. Their footsteps echoed loudly in the halls.

They jumped over the line of light spilling from a half-open door and skittered down the hall, still holding hands. Katje banged into a door with a crash and it opened, spilling them both out into the quad. He tugged on her hand, inclining his head towards the other side where he could see a shape moving. “Sssh.”

They scampered around the edge of the quad and onto a brick and concrete stage. There was a niche behind it that was out of easy view from almost everywhere, deep in shadow. They sank down into that puddle of shadow, backs against the rough bricks. “So much for dances,” Katje whispered, and he laughed.

They curled together in the darkness. Jowan didn’t know what to do with his hands. Katje pressed close, and he could feel her trembling slightly. He could see her eyes a little even in the dark, the large and tilted eyes that were the giveaway that her mother had been Dalish.

There was a soft, shivering moment between them, an intake of breath.

Then she leaned in and brushed her lips across his, tentatively.

She pulled back a bit, and his hand found hers in the dark. Both of them were sweating, despite the chill of the night. “Was that okay?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He paused for a moment. “Could we…do that again?”

Their second kiss was far less tentative, though this time they bumped noses and then teeth before they figured out quite what they were doing. After, they clung to each other, Katje giggling softly into his shoulder. They stayed there until they heard an adult coming, then ran off together, scampering through the chill night, towards the river bridge.

#

“Jowaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan!”

He put down the spoon he was using to stir the stew his mom had given over to him to tend and stuck his head out of the kitchen. “What?”

Lily held out the phone to him, dangling it between thumb and forefinger. Her long black hair was up in big curlers; she was going out tonight after dinner. “It’s for you.” She waggled her eyebrows at him, which meant it was probably Katje at the other end of the line.

By common consent, Jowan and his big sister hid a couple of secrets for one another—Jowan didn’t tell anyone that Lily had just about gotten arrested for possession a couple of years ago, and Lily knew Jowan was dating Katje but didn’t breathe a word about it. Their mother probably would have been okay with it, but Dad would have been  _very_  unhappy about his youngest son dating a human. Especially the human daughter of his boss. Lily had explained this to him, told him he had to keep it a secret.

He took the phone from Lily and handed her the spoon. She sighed and flounced off towards the kitchen.  “Hello?” he said into the phone. He sat down at the table, winding the phone cord between his fingers.

“Hey, Jowan. You busy tonight?” Katje’s voice was strange. He couldn’t tell what it meant.

He shook his head, forgetting she couldn’t see him. “No. Why?”

There was a pause. “I just need…” She trailed off. “I got suspended today.”

“What? What  _happened_?”

“Got into a fight. My dad is  _livid_. I need to get out of the house for a while. Meet me down by the bridge?”

“After dinner. Um. About seven? And how long are you suspended for?”

There was another pause. “Three days. I knocked out one of Gene Pereal’s front teeth.”

He was impressed despite himself. Gene was a big guy, a senior, and he liked picking on any student he thought was weird. “Good for you.”

She laughed a little, though there was a bit of a choke in the sound. “Yeah. Thanks. See you about seven.”

After dinner, he stuck a blanket into his backpack and headed down to the river bridge. There was a park near the bridge that they met up in a lot; at the center of the park was a secret spot in a dense thicket of bushes that they had found when they were younger, shielded from the prying eyes of the outside world. They hadn’t used it much during the winter, but now that it was almost the end of the school year and the air was warming, it was a good place for them to be alone.

The last four months had been exciting and confusing and wonderful. He and Katje were getting pretty good at kissing each other, and they were beginning to explore other things. He was starting to get used to the feeling of her bony body pressed against him, to be able to read from the way she would sometimes flush and sigh what she wanted.  _Show me,_  he’d said about a month ago.  _Show me how to make you feel good._

And she had, and it was sort of weird and awkward at first, but he liked how she moved when he touched her just right, how her eyes would close and her cheeks would go blotchy with a flush, how she’d shiver and muffle a hungry cry against his shoulder. And she was experimenting on  _him_ , and that was… _amazing_. It felt like they were inventing whole worlds together, secretly. He sometimes wondered why nobody else could see it in them, how the pleasure glowed in both of them.

He dropped to a crouch and crab-walked through a narrow tunnel through the bushes. The sun was just gone down, and the little clearing surrounded by thorn held shadows, and Katje.

She was sitting with her knees to her chest and her face pressed against them. When he rustled out of the passage, she looked up at him. She had a black eye, and there were butterfly bandages over what looked like a long cut on her cheek. “Hey,” she said.

Jowan pulled the blanket out of the backpack and spread it out on the ground. “Does that hurt?” He held a hand out towards her.

She took his hand; as she did, the sleeve of her coat rode up, revealing purpling bruises on her wrist and forearm. He tugged her close to him, and when she curled into him, he wrapped his arms around her. “Yeah,” she said. “It’s okay, though.”

He rubbed her back gently. “What happened?”

She breathed out and put her unhurt cheek against his shoulder. She was trembling slightly, and there was a sick, worried feeling in Jowan’s stomach. “I was on my way to math, and Gene…said something. I got mad and punched him. And then his friends jumped me. There were plenty of witnesses to say I started it. So. Three day suspension.” She let out a long breath. “I don’t know if I’m going to graduate the year. Maybe. Probably have to do summer school.”

“What did he say to make you so mad? Gene’s always saying things. You don’t usually hit him.”

She was silent, curling into him. “He said, there goes the girl who’s dating the…” She shook her head a little. “I won’t repeat it. I just got  _mad_.”

They were quiet for a little while together. Then she swallowed. “My dad’s…not happy. No more dance for the rest of the school year. Maybe none this summer, either.”

He sucked in a breath. “He can’t  _do_  that.”

Katje’s laugh was brittle and sharp. “Yes, he can. He called the studio right then. Told them I wouldn’t be coming back to classes. Told me that I’m almost of age and that I should be getting ready to be married.” She rubbed her forearm. “I _hate_  him,” she whispered. “I hate him  _so much_.”

He didn’t say anything. Couldn’t say anything. He just hugged her. Katje’s dad was  _scary_ , and there wasn’t anyone willing to stand up to her father long enough to help. Not even Jowan, not even his family; they sheltered her sometimes, but that was all they could do.

She was tense in his arms, muscles and bone straining against itself. “Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked her, still holding onto her.

“This.” She pressed her cheek against his shoulder. “Keep reminding me that I’m going to get through this, that I have reason to keep on.”

“Okay. I can do that.” He kissed her hair.

She lifted her face, cupped his cheek with her hand. He never had any trouble meeting her eyes. Everyone else in the world, yes; but there was nothing frightening in her gaze. Not to him. And when she kissed him, there was something urgent in how her body moved against his, a need that his own body answered.

The shadows covered them, and they forgot everything but each other.

#

When Jowan came home, he was nearly alight with excitement. Lily was sitting at the kitchen table, shining curls mussed, frowning fiercely at the phone. “I can’t believe that  _fucking_  shem stood me up,” she said crossly. She glanced up. “Oh, hey. You look happy.”

He grinned and dropped into the chair across from her. “Me and Katje. Um.” He covered his grin with his hand. “We. Did it.”

She gasped. “You  _did_? Way to  _go_ , little brother!” She reached across to ruffle his hair. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

Jowan nodded vehemently. “It was…. _really_  fun. And she said we should do it again soon.”

Lily laughed. “See, that’s what I like to hear—“ She glanced up, stopped, and her face abruptly paled. “Dad. Hey.”

The bottom dropped out of Jowan’s stomach, and he twisted around in his chair. Dad’s mouth was set in a hard line, his eyes narrowed, and from experience Jowan knew that facial expression portended bad things. Very, very bad things.

Dad grabbed Jowan’s upper arm and hauled him up out of his chair. “You and I need to have a  _conversation_.”

Jowan looked at Lily in a mute appeal for help. She just shook her head.

He never properly remembered what happened next. Later, he realized that was the day Mom had learned that her cancer was back, and that learning what Jowan was up to with Katje had probably been the thing that had broken the wall holding back all the rage at knowing what was going to happen next.

 _Don’t speak to her. Don’t touch her. You will have_ nothing  _more to do with her. Do you understand me?_

He understood.

#

When she came up to him at school the next day, he shrank back into his coat and shook his head, then turned and walked away as fast as he could go. They didn’t have any classes together, which helped, but on breaks he was always seeing her out of the corner of his eye. She was a pale-haired shadow, always alone. It felt like something were tearing inside of him, but he kept his mouth closed.

She called the house. Everyone hung up on her.

He didn’t go to the river bridge, or the park.  _It’s over and done with._

_She’s a human, you’re an elf, and you have no idea what you’ve just done._

The school year ended. He didn’t know if she’d passed her year or not, if she had to go to summer school. He tried not to think about it. He spent the summer in his room, painting miniatures. He abandoned his work on the dragon, though. When he held the half-painted pewter in his hand, the edges of wings pressing into his skin, all he could think of was wanting to show it to Katje when it was done.

School started again in the fall. He saw Katje once or twice, wearing a big sweatshirt, shoulders hunched. He still wanted to go to her, to talk to her. He thought she looked unhappy.

But not long after that, he came home from school to find his parents sitting at the kitchen table, Lily leaning against the wall and crying, and a pair of big humans in suits waiting. Waiting for Jowan.

They put him in a car that had  _Tranquility Mountain Reform School_  painted on the side, and took him away.

#

 _They hurt her,_  he whispered against Kahrin’s shoulder, almost twenty years later.   _They hurt me. I don’t understand why._

_I don’t know if I can._


End file.
